


and it will come back

by sunenthusiast



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Ancient China, Ancient Korea, Chinese Mythology & Folklore, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Language Barrier, M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Sharing a Bed, Tags to Be Added as Work is Updated, Unspecified Time Period (within Antiquity)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:28:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28640742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunenthusiast/pseuds/sunenthusiast
Summary: Soonyoung finds Junhui for the first time seven days into his journey when he is sun baked, basting in his own sweat, and halfway into his routine nap. By the time the sun had cast a shadow along the bow of his vessel, Soonyoung settled in his designated napping and net watching spot, jury-rigging the net to his seat to tug when it’s full. It’s a routine he has come to know and appreciate, one he didn’t feel the need to change.This is, until Jun gets tangled up in his fishing net.
Relationships: Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi/Wen Jun Hui | Jun
Comments: 13
Kudos: 39
Collections: Seventeen Rare Pair Fest: 2 Rare 2 Pair





	and it will come back

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [SVTRarePairFest2](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SVTRarePairFest2) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Soonyoung is a fisherman, Jun is a man he finds lost at sea.
> 
> Anything is fine as long as they are happy and together at the end.  
> A few notes:
> 
> \- this is set in antiquity along the coast of Korea with Soonyoung as a fisherman on the Yellow Sea. There are no definitive historical points made in this chapter beyond standard ancient geography and [ships](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Junk_\(ship\)), as well as all base level common elements of ancient worlds
> 
> \- all italicized dialogue from Jun is to be understood as spoken in Mandarin 
> 
> \- work title is from "It Will Come Back" by Hozier, chapter title from "Long and Lost" by Florence + the Machine  
> so many thanks to my beta reader for all your help! thank you anon for the prompt and happy reading <3

_“Unexpectedness moves us along._

_And the moon-- so perfectly charted--_

_never fails to surprise us. I wonder why._

_The Moon makes a traveller hunger_

_for something bitter in the world, what is it?_

_I will vanish; others will come here, what is that?_

_An old question.”_

_Anne Carson, Plainwater_

~ ☾ ~

Soonyoung finds Junhui for the first time seven days into his journey when he is sun baked, basting in his own sweat, and halfway into his routine nap. Nothing seemed off about the day when Soonyoung set up his nets at first dawn, casting them when it was quiet and the water was already rippling with activity, and set to completing menial tasks. By the time the sun had cast a shadow along the bow of his vessel, Soonyoung settled in his designated napping and net watching spot, jury-rigging the net to his seat to tug when it’s full. It’s a routine he has come to know and appreciate, one he didn’t feel the need to change. 

This is, until something gets tangled up in his net. 

The boat lurches violently to the side and thus Soonyoung does as well, toppling off his makeshift seat in the belly of the boat, consciousness an elusive thought before his face smacks into the freeboard with a resounding _thwack_. Soonyoung wakes up with sleep clouding his judgement and a pain in his skull that is explained by the smear of bloody spit against the wood of the rod holder. 

It takes a few seconds for Soonyoung to realize it was the warning bell and pulley for his fishing nets that knocked him over. His first thought is _wow that’s a hefty catch_. Sunfish, maybe, though he isn’t sure of that. His second thought is _oh gods what if it’s a shark or water demon_. 

He is prepared to handle fish, not so much anything else. He grabs the only long-range weapon he has (a fishing rod with a knife threaded to the top of it for net cutting purposes) and carefully leans over the boat. His heart is pounding in his ears, the abruptness of it all leaving him shaking with the aftershocks of a deep sleep. He can barely see properly as the water ripples around the entry points of his net, too much movement to get a clear look. Soonyoung wonders, briefly, what he did to deserve this unique brand of fear. Minghao would say “plenty” to which Soonyoung would vehemently disagree with. 

He resists the urge to blindly stab into the water until he’s sure he sees something. He mostly doesn’t want to ruin a perfectly good net nor miss a jab and accidentally aggravate whatever is in there that’s intense enough to rock his ship. So, he leans over, patient and waiting. The way he shakes is between him, the fish, and the gods that spy on him. 

Soonyoung waits. Waits some more. He waits until the thrashing dies down until there’s only a slight sway that accompanies a net full of fish. And even after, Soonyoung waits a bit more. Curiosity bites the bullet on his behalf and he puts down his fishing rod to grab onto the rope with both hands and pull it towards the surface of the water. He’s terrified. He’s a bit excited. Most of all: he’s sweating. He patiently watches for the net links to meet ocean top, to get a clear view, to see what he’s caught. The first link comes up and he focuses on it. 

Fish. Maybe about a day's worth at the fish market back home. Nothing that could have thrown him off his seat. He looks a bit harder as he keeps reeling in the rope, and it’s heavy, heavier than what it’s showing to him. He feels the grind of effort between his shoulders where sweat drips down and sticks his shirt to his skin. By the third link out of the ocean, he sees a body. 

Soonyoung’s first instinct is to scream. He’s momentarily proud that he doesn’t. Instinct number two comes in the form of him barreling off the side of the ship with his weapon in hand seconds later. The cold of the ocean water is a shock to his system and he almost gasps when he hits it, but muscle memory prevents him from getting a lungful of water. Fully submerged, he latches onto the net and cuts the rope, freeing all his catch and the body. He releases the weapon in favour of grabbing onto the body the way he was taught by other fishermen before him: an arm around the abdomen, body propped up on the hip as Soonyoung side-swims back towards his ship. 

Soonyoung tosses the body haphazardly over the edge of the ship like a rag-doll before he uses the still intact rope to clamber out of the water. He has a moment of awareness when he realizes that throwing the body, limp over the freeboards, did it no favours. Pushing his hair out of his face, Soonyoung drags the body the rest of the way on board until it’s in a crumpled heap on the deck. 

“Please don’t be dead, please don’t be dead,” Soonyoung whispers to it as he organizes the body to be flat on its back. It looks a little on the side of dead, if he’s being honest, and even then that’s putting a lot more faith in it than it deserves. There’s a whole lot of red and white and Soonyoung is positive the shirt had no intention of being multicoloured when it was put on this morning. His stomach gives a valiant heave and Soonyoung swallows it back with a grimace. 

Soonyoung’s breath catches in his throat as he looks down at the man, beaten and washed out. He had been too concerned with just getting him out of the net that he hadn’t even looked at him properly. Alive? Breathing? Soonyoung has no clue. He nudges the arm closest to his foot. Nothing. Probably dead. 

He scans the rest of the body, looking for something, anything, to tell him how this happened. Soonyoung purposefully sails into the middle of the ocean alone for this very reason. Typically, people don’t show up tangled in his nets like rogue sea creatures, especially ones with clothing shredded up like cabbage for his stews. He notes that the shirt, for all its valiant attempts at maintaining its status as a shirt, reveals cuts and bruises, lacerations so deep that it’s stained in reds more than it was white anymore. This damage was something Soonyoung’s nets couldn’t do even if he willed it as such. Was it deliberate? An accident? Has the man died from the wounds or from drowning? Soonyoung himself breathes heavily, about to enter the third stage of panic from having a dead body on board when he sees it: blood, thick and red, sluggishly oozing from a wound in his side, almost hidden from Soonyoung had he not moved his arm. 

Bleeding! As in, heart still pumping, as in _still alive_. Not dead! He watches patiently for the rise and fall of the stranger’s chest. It’s imperceptibly small, but it’s there, a slight movement. The stranger is breathing shallowly and Soonyoung rejoices quietly to himself while he spurs into action, ripping the excess fabric beside the stranger’s head from the bedspread pile (there goes a layer of warmth. Soonyoung will live). He presses it into the wound quickly while the stranger is still unconscious. It feels slightly invasive but Soonyoung figures a “ _thank you_ ” will be uttered later at the realization of not-deadness. He has enough fishing line and dexterity to close every one of the wounds, he knows how to do it in theory, just no idea how to execute it in practice. 

Minghao’s lessons would have been helpful now, had he listened. Minghao himself would be even more helpful. But Soonyoung reaps what he sows and is soon to _sew_ his fate into this stranger. Minghao always emphasized two things: clean wound and tight thread, like stitching a seam on a pair of his favourite pants. Not hard, right? 

Soonyoung is sweating. He has a temporary flash of selfishness when he realizes the only cleaning agent he has on his person is his final bottle of rice wine, followed up immediately by remorse. He swallows his fears and pats the rag he pushed into the wound twice, jiggling the body. “Stay there,” He says to the rag, and then to the stranger, who doesn’t seem like he’s in the business of moving any time soon. He hurries to grab supplies stashed not far away from everything else in his boat, thankful for once that his vessel is so small. He steadies himself, brushes back the strangers hair away from his face, and experiences grief and panic. 

The stranger is beautiful. Shockingly so. He’s so beautiful that it’s jarring, throwing Soonyoung off, forcing his mind to grind into overtime and recalibrate. He has so many thoughts all at once that are so loud and muddled that he has to bench them by pulling the cork out of the bottle with his teeth, spitting it somewhere on the deck and taking a swig of wine from the bottle before he gets to work. “I’m sorry,” He says to the stranger and pours the remaining liquid out on the expanse of his abdomen without finesse. He pulls the fishing line tight through the hook, twisted around his fingers and sets to work, pushing the hook through the skin of the deepest wound near his ribs and shudders when it finally pierces through, snaking the line into the space he creates over and over again. Soonyoung has never had to stitch up anyone before but he thinks that by the third wound, he’s got the hang of it. When the worst of it is over, Soonyoung cuts the line with his knife, tugging firm at the skin until it is cinched shut, and ties a knot to close it.

He takes a sparing amount of fresh water from his canteen and cleans over his work, lifting dried blood and salt from the affected areas. He uses his hands to rip away the rest of the material of the shirt until Soonyoung has unrestrained access to the stranger’s body, treating what he can with his limited and fleeting knowledge of aid, bandaging the bigger lacerations with rags and string. Bruises and scrapes are imprinted on the man’s abdomen and throat, like lattice work of a cable, ugly and marred in purples and reds and Soonyoung is hit again with the subtle thought that this was done intentionally. Whoever had done this must have planned to do so--it’s clear in the way it’s patterned across his body. 

Soonyoung is out of his depth. He knows this. He knew this the moment he made the choice to dive into the water to save the man rather than cut the net and his losses, letting the sea take what is theirs. He’s scared--scared the man he has helped won’t make it, or will and ensure Soonyoung doesn’t. He’s sad that this has happened at all. But deep down, more insidious, he’s _excited_ , thrilled with the break in monotony, a change in routine. 

Once the adrenaline has bled out of his fingers, the tremors at bay, he takes the time to really look at the stranger the way he wants to with curious eyes. Around the bruising and redness of his features, Soonyoung can really tell he is stunning. He’s all sharpened angles in ways that remind him of Minghao: strong defined jaw, protruding cheekbones, and a curve to his lips--full and plush. He has feline eyes when shut, angular ears, but his nose is soft, widened and rounded with a big bridge. Everything about him is so pronounced Soonyoung feels as though he’s staring at a statue from the Emperor’s gardens. Soonyoung busies his noisy brain by smoothing out the stranger’s hair and counting his moles (there’s one over his lip that makes Soonyoung want to poke it, which he refrains from doing). 

It’s not enough to quiet his mind, and the thoughts creep back in slowly but steadily. He hopes he didn’t just rescue a murderer, catching him in his net. He’s not sure what sort of life warrants the marks this man is displaying. He also knows there’s not always a reason. The sea is home to all sorts, some are much kinder than others, but the worst are too easy to find. He absently roams his hand over his bandages. “You’re going to be okay,” He says. _Please don’t kill me_ , he adds silently. 

Even asleep, the stranger looks intimidating--severe features made stronger by the lack of movement. His eyebrows are pinched together and his mouth is curved downwards into a small frown, making him appear angry. Soonyoung can’t blame him. He’d be angry too if he was in the same situation. Soonyoung prays to the gods that when the stranger awakens, it is not at the cost of Soonyoung’s life. 

Soonyoung can practically feel the searingly judgmental glare of Minghao shores away because of the way he’s handling this. It drills into his skull, a thick reminder of all of his best friends' life lessons he seldom recalled. He feels foolish now, knowing he would fare so much better with his friend here. Minghao loved Soonyoung dearly, he knew, but would always regard him with impossibly soft eyes, too understanding, and aware as he housed him in the months between fishing. 

“This life isn’t sustainable,” Minghao had told him. That was a lie, and Soonyoung was ready to say as much when he was hushed with a glance and freshly brewed tea. “It’s not a life if you’re using it to run from something.” 

Well, that was just uncalled for. Soonyoung sipped on the tea feeling equally as bitter as the loose leaf caught in his teeth. “Isn’t it though?” He returned. _A life on the run was still a life_ , he could argue. Minghao wasn’t looking to reason and Soonyoung wasn’t in the mood to fight. 

Minghao sighed. It’s a talk they had many times before and would no doubt have many more times. Minghao was a village apothecary, a fixed figure in life and tethered to the land in a way Soonyoung never could be. He was an essential part of the community and he loved more than anything to heal, to give and feel needed. That sort of singularity was something that terrified Soonyoung, too solid, trapping him from paths he felt compelled to explore. The sea never demanded a fixed point beyond the moon. The sea didn’t care, didn’t ask, didn’t claim you as its own solid necessity. Soonyoung reveled in that sort of freedom. 

Minghao, in many ways, was Soonyoung’s fixed point. In the winter months, he was home, tending to him like his plants. In the days between trips, he stayed, enjoying learning art and language from Minghao as he worked in the kitchen endlessly creating things made to _help_. Once in a while, he offered for Minghao to come along with him for a week. Minghao said no every time with grace and a smile, and Soonyoung knew it was because he was not only needed, but valued his time alone to reflect. They both did. It gave them room to grow and come together again, easily as friends of seven years. 

Soonyoung had asked this time before he left, compelled to do so. Minghao sent him off with a gentle _no_ and enough packed lunch and elixirs for two days. Soonyoung kissed his cheek wetly. Adoringly. Goodbyes were always sentimental but they were both freer in the space between. “Are you sure?” Soonyoung had asked once more. Felt he had to, to be sure, just this once. 

Minghao’s smile curled up into its signature curve and he said: “I’m sure. Can’t leave my duties for too long.” _Won’t_. “I hope you find what it is you’re looking for out there this time.” 

Soonyoung had hugged him tightly. He didn’t know what _it_ was, but it never stopped him from seeking it every time his boat left the shore. 

As Soonyoung looks at the stranger splayed out on the deck of his boat, he can’t help but to think that this has to be some kind of sick and twisted attempt taunting fate. He benches that idea as quickly as it comes, choosing to ignore it, as his relationship with omens is tenuous at best. All he knows is that helping this stranger is the right thing to do, what Minghao would urge him to do. Soonyoung thanks Minghao’s words from afar, wishes deeply that he was present. 

Soonyoung looks contentedly at the man beside him and kneels near the stranger’s head to dab at the smaller cuts that are still dribbling small trails of blood to keep himself occupied. He reassures the stranger through little statements, gentle _it’s okay_ ’s as he tinkers. Is what he’s doing a good idea? Bad? To be determined. Soonyoung isn’t too bothered with the finer details, solely focusing on keeping the man alive at the very least. He will worry about charting a course in the morning. 

He dabs at the wounds and adds salve to the deeper ones, changing the bandages and rinsing the cloth until the sun has begun to kiss the horizon. Oranges and yellows paint the sky, bouncing along the water, bringing life to the face of the stranger. He looked serene, warm, and not at all like the bruised and bleeding mess from the hours prior. As Soonyoung dips the rag into the sea and wrings out the blood and water, he realizes he is determined to see this through. Feels it like an intrinsic truth, a passion bubbling behind his ribs, waiting to burst forward. Cataclysmic. Exciting. He wants once again; he has a fixed point.

It should have felt odd, unnerving, destabilizing, but Soonyoung was always better at adapting than others. He considered himself like the sea; changing, flowing, tied to nothing, owing nothing. To simply be was enough. He hopes the stranger will wake up. He watches patiently for the steady rise and fall of the stranger’s breathing, just in case it changes between minutes.

He isn’t sure how long he waits, oscillating between tending to the bandages and mumbling to himself. He hasn’t dared to move the stranger from the middle of the deck on the stern side and is thankful that the weather has stayed in their favour, the warmth gradually reducing as the sky turns vibrant with pinks and oranges. Even though they’re exposed, the cuddy is nearby so he can grab extra materials should it get too cold, and he can still reach the tiller so he can easily move the rudder to urge the ship into the north. As the sun sets, he takes care to light his three lanterns as he awaits for the moon to say hello, grabbing a tangerine and peeling it silently. A classy dinner for a classy man. Soonyoung would never get scurvy if he has his way. He’s midway through waxing poetic about the benefits of tangerines while on a long fishing journey when the man finally surfaces. 

The man wakes with a cough and Soonyoung jumps a little, letting out an undignified squeak. He rushes to quell the man’s sudden alarm at being awake when it’s likely his last moments of consciousness were governed by the idea that maybe he wouldn’t wake up. Soonyoung braces the man, stopping him from sitting up out of panic with a hand on his chest. “You’re alright. You’re safe,” Soonyoung says, smiling. The man’s eyes are so wide, so alarmed, he looks like a cat that has been cornered and Soonyoung feels compelled to do anything to ease that. “You’re okay,” He says, softer, more gently. 

The man grabs onto his arm, still panicked, and wow he’s strong. Soonyoung wriggles uncomfortably in his grip. The man’s eyes narrow and oh. Oh no. Oh no he’s looking at Soonyoung like he’s the danger oh shit oh fuck. He immediately begins to backpedal: “I found you in my net and I rescued you and I promise I didn’t do anything weird to you except maybe cut off your shirt but let’s be honest it wasn’t up to much anyway and you were bleeding so obviously I had to bandage you up and--” 

He’s cut off by the hand on his arm moving to his mouth to shush him. It normally wouldn’t deter him, but Soonyoung feels it’s in his best interest to listen. The man’s eyebrows are pinched up in confusion, and Soonyoung really shouldn’t be thinking about how pretty he is but he’s really just so very pretty it makes him a little dizzy to look at directly. The man opens his mouth to speak but a small croak comes out instead and he coughs some more. Soonyoung had anticipated this and quickly hands the man a water pouch to drink from. “Take it slow,” he tries but the man doesn’t seem to heed his words as he pushes himself into sitting and gulps it down hastily. It’s fine, Soonyoung has more water, but he is a bit dazzled by how the man doesn’t seem to be feeling pain from sitting up so abruptly. Soonyoung gives him space as he greedily drains the pouch dry, tossing it when he’s done. Soonyoung notes the lack of decorum. 

The man stretches and then winces when the bandages around his middle seem to tug at his skin, earning Soonyoung a searing glare. Soonyoung frowns, unsure why he’s so hostile. It’s not like _he_ did the damage to the man. “What’s your problem, man?” He asks. “Please relax or you are going to rip your stitches and I really don’t want to have to redo them while you’re awake because you do not seem like you’re going to let that happen.” 

The man looks so confused it makes Soonyoung feel more confused than he is. “ _Why do you speak so much_?” The man asks. His voice is a little raspy but light and has a cadence that Soonyoung really likes. 

Too bad he doesn’t understand him. 

“Pardon?” He says, just in case he misheard him. 

“ _You really do talk a lot._ ” It’s said firmly. Soonyoung stares at him blankly. “ _What happened to me_?” 

Soonyoung is so far out of his depth he struggles to do more than just stare at the man more. This is a cosmic joke. It has to be. Soonyoung is a bit dehydrated and even more sleep deprived so when the cackle bubbles up he’s slow to stop it. He knows he looks insane. He feels a little insane, if he’s honest. “Fuck. Of course,” Soonyoung says. He sighs and decides to try again. “What’s your name?” 

The man frowns. Soonyoung does his best to gesture the question. Thank gods he gave up shame for his health years ago because judging by the man’s face he’s made a fool of himself again. He tries by gesturing to himself, saying: “My name is Soonyoung.” 

Flame to oil, awareness sparks and catches. Soonyoung watches as the man seems to understand this. He points a slender finger at Soonyoung. “ _You’re_ Soonyoung?” Soonyoung nods and he points to himself. “ _My name is_ Junhui.” 

Junhui. Soonyoung tests the name out for himself and smiles when it rolls easily on his tongue. It feels nice, familiar, and Soonyoung likes it so much. He can’t help but to smile and Junhui stares at him still confused but with the corner of his mouth tugged up into his cheek and well, Soonyoung can work with this. He’s never backed down from a challenge and Junhui poses the most exciting and confusing challenge yet. Every question he needs to ask, he can’t, and that is so fascinating to him that he can’t let it go until he solves it. Why did Jun end up in his net? How? Who is he? Where did he come from? Why doesn’t he seem to feel the stitches in his abdomen? Why doesn’t he seem afraid of Soonyoung, and rather looks like Soonyoung should fear him? Should he try and sail back to his home or Jun’s to let him heal? All interesting and absolutely nothing he can get an answer from the normal way. 

Exhilarating. A new path. Soonyoung cannot wait to sail it. 

The most he can do now is make sure Jun is comfortable and the rest can wait until morning. Soonyoung grins widely as he stands, bowing at a sharp degree. “Nice to meet you and have you here, Jun!” He says. “Welcome to my ship. I call it the _Hoshi_ , although it’s printed name is _The Sea Runner_ , but that felt a bit bland. Did you know Hoshi means star? I think it’s Japanese.”

For all that Jun tries to suppress his smile, he fails miserably, and Soonyoung sees right through him. “ _You talk a lot for someone who knows I can’t understand him_ ,” Jun says, sounding bemused. Soonyoung takes this as a good sign. He walks a bit closer and tries not to take the fact that Jun scooches back personally. After all, they are both strangers, and Soonyoung tries not to think everyone is always as trusting as he is. He ignores the questioning glance he gets from Jun as he rummages around in the pile of discarded clothes and rags, producing another tangerine with a small “aha” and offers it to Jun. 

“You were unconscious, but I was saying tangerines are important for you.” Soonyoung holds it out in his hand. “Learned it from a friend a long time ago. He was always keeping tangerines in his pockets. And he called me the weird one.” 

Jun takes the tangerine, holding it like it’s something sacred. Maybe it is. Soonyoung’s not going to judge and would not put it past himself to acquire another citrus advocate in his life by accident. Soonyoung starts digging into his own fruit, the juices messily spilling over his fingers. He was constantly admonished for being a messy eater, so overeager that he would stuff his cheeks full with the food until they puffed out. Nothing has changed in that respect. He can simply eat as messily as he wishes. His ship, his rules, so if the tangerine juice hits part of the deck, well that’s nothing to bother about. 

He notices Jun still staring at his fruit, unmoving and Soonyoung’s brows furrow. “Dig in,” He says around a mouthful of food. Jun’s attention snaps up to Soonyoung and he looks...a little disgusted with Soonyoung but the light of curiosity hasn’t left his eyes. Maybe Jun hates citrus. Maybe Soonyoung had misread this entirely already. “What’s wrong with it?” He asks. 

Jun, looking very alarmed, slowly lifts the tangerine to his mouth and, to Soonyoung’s horror, takes a bite. 

The polite façade of enjoying chewing the rind fades the minute Soonyoung shakes his head more violently than he necessary to convey his point and Jun spits it out into his hand and lobs it off the side of the ship. “Watch me,” Soonyoung says and grabs another tangerine out of the pile. “You have to peel it and eat the fruit inside.” He makes a show of sticking his thumb into the dipped part of the tangerine and digs in, peeling back the skin to reveal the lighter fruit underneath. He continues until it is fully peeled and Jun is watching raptly, like Soonyoung just did a magic trick. He picks apart the slices until they’re sitting in a mound on the palm of his hand and offers it to Jun, who takes it and immediately pops a piece into his mouth. He looks a lot happier and Soonyoung is pleased with his work and a little endeared by the way Jun’s ears have turned a shade of pink in the time it took to peel the tangerine. 

They sit in silence a small distance apart as they eat, Soonyoung offering more water and tangerines, grateful when Jun accepts them with less and less hesitation. It’s a lousy excuse for dinner, but it’s all Soonyoung has the willpower to offer, and if it’s not enough for Jun’s tastes, he says nothing about it. 

Soonyoung lets Jun finish his third tangerine alone as he collects his materials to return them to the cuddy, which is big enough for a makeshift bed and for his food stores. The bed is only big enough for one person and Soonyoung lets out a heavy sigh through his nose when he realizes that he’s going to not be sleeping in it. At home, Minghao always offers things with no catch, no malicious edge, he simply _does_ because he is kind. Soonyoung’s kind too, he just really likes his comfort. He will give up his bed to the injured stranger but he doesn’t need to do it without sulking at the stars privately. Soonyoung points to the cuddy space behind them, built into the stern pushing the helm onto an additional level and separated from the rest of the boat by wooden walls and a heavy sheet as the door, and says: “You can take my bed.” Soonyoung feigns sleeping while standing up and gestures for Jun to rest. 

Jun, for what it’s worth, doesn’t try to give him a funny look. He takes the hand offered to him and leans on Soonyoung for support when he stands, a quiet groan punching out of him at the change in position. Soonyoung makes a mental note to swap bandages in the morning. Soonyoung keeps his hand tight around Jun’s waist as he slings an arm around Soonyoung’s shoulders. Jun is taller than him, and it makes Soonyoung feel like maybe he’s not going to fit in his bed. It also is something Soonyoung files away in an already thickening folder of _traits the stranger has that make me feel odd_. 

Once he rests Jun down on the blankets and settles him, Soonyoung goes to say goodnight but Jun grabs his arm again, urgent enough to stop him from leaving but not the same iron grip as before. Jun looks serious in the lantern light, eyes blinking slowly at Soonyoung, sleep dragging him down under. Soonyoung thinks he might want assurance, might need it, but doesn’t know where to begin without overstepping a boundary. It’s like navigating new waters, uncharted territory, in the dark. Soonyoung loves that but dreads it equally, operating off of instinct and hunches. He takes a shot in the dark again and covers Jun’s hand with his own, warm to the touch, and gives it a small squeeze. He tries to look as open as possible, and wants Jun to know Soonyoung wouldn’t harm him. It’s such a difficult line to define through action in the moment when he shakes a little with the fear of the unknown. What he can’t convey with words he has to show through action and tones and at this point, it’s an act of trust, a promise neither can set in stone until morning. Soonyoung feels where the fear begins to make its home in his gut, but he quells it, and pats Jun’s arm. 

“Goodnight,” Soonyoung says. “I’ll see you in the morning.” 

Jun seems to be studying him, and eventually he must decide that Soonyoung is trustworthy for the moment. Jun lets him go and Soonyoung thinks not for the first time tonight that this might be an act of mercy on Jun’s part. He accepts it, taking his leave and letting the curtain swing into play behind him, a single lantern illuminating the inside, casting shadows across the fabric. 

Soonyoung plods over to the steps leading up to the helm of his ship, scooping up the remaining fabrics and clothes on the way until he is satisfied with the spot of deck he has chosen to set up his temporary sleeping location. He’s lucky it’s a warm night with minimal wind because he is a far cry from cozy. Whatever. He’s slept in worse places. As he settles in after blowing out the lantern flame, he stares at the stars, bright and unmoving. They should comfort him. Tonight, they just remind him of everything he has yet to do, to see. Soonyoung’s body stops and his mind awakens. He knows that he has enough supplies for two weeks for himself. With the addition of Jun, it’s now halved, and he wonders if he should sail home with Jun, offering him a place to stay. There’s no how-to in Soonyoung’s codex of how to navigate this, no muscle memory to help him socialize through this. He’s sailing blind with holes in the canvas. 

If anyone can sail it, it’s Soonyoung. He decides morning will be the dawn of something new, and they will figure out what is next together. He thinks on it until the water slapping against the hull lulls Soonyoung into a fitful sleep. 

~ ☾ ~

When Soonyoung wakes up, he’s immediately gifted with Junhui leaning over him, head blocking out the skyline as he stares at him. Soonyoung, a once dignified man and accustomed to impulse action, makes a sound like a choked off scream and jolts upwards, knocking his shoulder into the tiller. It’s the second time in two days he’s had the shit scared out of him by Jun and he really hopes this isn’t going to be a pattern. 

“Gods! What the fuck, Jun?” He asks, a little breathless. Jun politely takes a step back looking wholly unapologetic. Soonyoung notices then one of three things: Jun’s face is no longer bruised, his throat almost completely healed, and that Soonyoung never gave him a shirt last night. It’s also a lot earlier in the day than Soonyoung typically awakens, and by extension too early for any of this, judging by the position of the sun, still sitting at the horizon in pastels along the ocean. He groans, head knocking back against the bundle of clothes he used for a pillow.

Jun looks amused and Soonyoung can’t help but pout. It’s his only form of retaliation. Fighting his newfound awareness seems futile, so he relents and rolls out of the looming gaze off Jun and gets up, stretching his arms high above his head until his back pops and yawns so wide his eyes shut and his jaw clicks. He looks at Jun with bleary eyes and points to his exposed chest where the bandages are clinging for dear life and says: “I’ll fix those up later, promise.” 

Soonyoung holds true to his promise after he slings out his smaller backup net for the day, practiced hands winding the rope around the freeboard’s cleat. Jun silently watches him as he does what he knows best, not even fussing when Soonyoung keeps him upright to redress the wounds. The three deepest ones appear fine, fishing line holding tight and the skin not even a little red around the entry point. Soonyoung runs an appreciative hand over the spaces where the smaller cuts were the day prior, now only visible by irritated pink lines. “You’re lucky,” Soonyoung says quietly, retracting his hand when the muscles of Jun’s abdomen jump under his touch. “You heal quickly.” 

“ _You didn’t have to do all this. I will be fine,”_ Jun says and his tone is so bright that Soonyoung wants to hear him say more. “ _I heal faster when I rest, so I’ll be healed by tomorrow. And while I appreciate all of your effort, may I have a tunic in its entirety rather than it in pieces across my stomach?”_

It’s a question, Soonyoung can tell, so he stops where his fingers are nimbly tying knots into the fabric at his worst wound and raises his brow in a silent question. Jun tugs on the hem of Soonyoung’s shirt and asks: “ _Can I have one? Or would you rather ogle me all day?”_

“Oh! Yes, my bad.” Soonyoung scuttles to grab a him one, cheeks burning, and offers a shirt that is a little warmer, a thicker fabric that he hemmed to rest just below his elbows. Jun takes it and puts it on, tucking it into his pants in one area. Soonyoung thinks he looks good like this, the beige fabric with tiny navy embroidery work on the breastbone of a moon suits him all too well. Soonyoung finds he likes the way Jun scopes out his reflection in the piece of glass Soonyoung has propped up on the cuddy wall. Jun smiles widely, all teeth and boxy, and Soonyoung feels a little light-headed and a little too willing to do anything to see that smile more. 

“ _Thank you,_ ” Jun says. “ _You’re kind of odd. I like that._ ” Soonyoung is a puddle in the ground when Jun ruffles his hair before leaving the cuddy, too friendly too quickly; Soonyoung’s ideal pace. 

Later that evening, drifting on the ocean with no real direction, Soonyoung lays out his cloth map across the charting block at the midway point of the ship below the second sail and lights the lantern, hanging it above. Junhui immediately follows, looming over Soonyoung, as he is coming to learn that Junhui would. 

“ _What is this?_ ” He asks. 

Soonyoung points to the shores where he hailed. “I’m from the southern shores of Korea, right near the coast of the Baekje kingdom. Taechon, for now.” Jun points to Soonyoung and points back to the map and Soonyoung nods. “Where are you from?” He asks and mimics the motions to Jun. 

Soonyoung watches with wide eyes as Jun points to the carefully labelled section of the Wei region of China, handwriting that he had done on the map himself with shaking hands as he had copied Minghao’s notes. It was a long way from where they were and it concerns him knowing Jun ended up this far away from home. Not for the first time since the net, Soonyoung wonders how any of this happened. Jun never offers any answers and Soonyoung, in all fairness, never asks. 

“Do you want to go home?” He asks, pointing to Jun’s home. 

Jun shakes his head, eyes bright in the lantern light and points to Taechon with a clipped smile and says: “ _Take me here._ ” It’s a definite answer, clear, and Soonyoung now has a path and, just maybe, a friend too. 

~ ☾ ~

On the second day, with a course in mind, Soonyoung wakes up at first light, energy crackling and bubbling out of his body. He’s eager and excited and so awake it makes him energized in a way he hasn’t been since he left home. He opens up the sails, starting with the bow sail, then the middle one which is the hardest to manage alone, and then the final one at the farthest point of the stern. He cranks the tiller due south east and hopes the winds are in his favour. 

The sun rises peacefully in the east, the world waking up and the ocean maintaining its quietness. By the time it has hit seven in the morning, Soonyoung has made tea, two cups set out on the table below middle sail on the bow side, cast a trolling line out and attached it along the freeboards with the bell set to chime when it’s hooked. He’s midway through cooking a bland breakfast of oats and humming when Jun joins him, sitting beside him on the deck. 

Jun has the thin blanket still wrapped around him, his hair sticking in three different directions, and his eyes are barely opening. He’s blinking very slowly and muffles a yawn with a clothed hand. He looks soft in the morning light and Soonyoung feels more at peace with him there at his side. Jun yawns again and slumps further into himself, eyes closing completely again. He’s breathing deeply again and Soonyoung wants to urge him to use his shoulder to rest. He doesn’t, instead letting Jun fade in and out of awareness for the next few minutes until the oats are done. 

Soonyoung gently smooths back Jun’s hair to rouse him again. “Good morning,” Soonyoung whispers. “Breakfast is ready.” 

Jun cracks open one eye and looks unhappy about it. Soonyoung can’t help it, he laughs blithely, slinging his arm around Jun and rubbing circles into his shoulder. Soonyoung is a very tactile person and Jun doesn’t seem to mind, leaning into the touch with a sigh on his lips. Jun mumbles something and Soonyoung misses it entirely, and even though he can’t understand, he urges Jun to repeat himself with a small _hmm_? 

He does again, and it sounds a lot like an exhausted grumble for tea. Soonyoung can manage that. Soonyoung detaches himself and pours the fresh tea into the second cup on the table and serves up the oats into clay bowls. Soonyoung feels lucky, keeping two of everything on board in case one day Minghao decides to join him. In the beginning of solo fishing, he went to sail without a small portable clay pit with ample amounts of wood and twigs before Minghao had stopped him and urged Soonyoung to take his own. “For cooking,” Minghao explained. Soonyoung is thankful more than ever for this now. As content as he is to survive on fruit and fish alone, he’s happy to have a belly full of warm oats and tea. Mornings are cold in the later months of summer and he knows the only way to stop the cold from settling into the bones is through tea. He dutifully sips his and doesn’t even sputter when a loose leaf makes it past his teeth. 

Jun, on the other hand, scooches forward in his blanket until he’s at the table where his tea is steaming into the morning air. He doesn’t even bother to take his arms out of the blanket, instead just leaning forward so he can sip from the cup directly. Soonyoung hopes he won’t eat his oats that way. He has to go readjust the tiller and back sail so he leaves Jun to eat, taking another sip of his tea and giving his shoulder a squeeze. Before he can let go, Jun pulls his shoulder up and nuzzles Soonyoung’s hand with his cheek. It’s over as soon as it happens, as though it’s Jun’s way of acknowledging him, but Soonyoung is left to walk away, reeling from the way his hand tingles. 

Soonyoung is a tactile person. He always has been, always reaching out, touching arms and hugging, ruffling hair, barreling into people when he’s laughing so hard tears spring into his eyes. He likes to hold people, be held when his mind is buzzing so loud he can’t even hear himself. He’s used to it as a way of showing his comfort, of showing friendliness. Jun seems to be similar to Soonyoung in this regard, wanting to occupy the same space as Soonyoung, usually a bit too close and Soonyoung has to make smaller movements to not accidentally knock into Jun. He likes to lean on Soonyoung, hook his chin over his shoulder as he goes about making a new net to replace the one he cut apart. 

He’s used to being touched. He’s not used to it being with someone he barely knows and can’t understand. Every touch carries more meaning than Soonyoung is ready for, an act of trust when words can’t assure one another that they are in this together. Soonyoung’s touches are less mindless, more purposeful, a way to communicate, and now that carries weight in how he gives, and how he receives. He wonders if Jun thinks like this too. 

He can’t ask, so he lets the questions fester in his mind as he starts to fuss with the thinner ropes attaching the final stern sail to the rudder. He has to retie the knots and pull the sail taut to best catch the wind. As he loops it into a surgeon’s knot, he can feel the presence of Jun behind him, looming again. Soonyoung sighs, still crouched beside the cleat, and looks over his shoulder to see Jun looking intrigued. He’s making a face, eyebrows raised as his mouth flattens into a line. It’s an expression Soonyoung has yet to decipher in its entirety. Soonyoung cocks his head and Jun comes closer, crouching beside him. He reaches out to fiddle with the loose end of the rope and looks at Soonyoung expectantly. 

It clicks. “Do you want to learn how to tie the sails?” Soonyoung asks. Jun opens his eyes a little wider before letting his face return to neutral. Soonyoung unties his knots and loosens the sail until it tips backwards again. He hands it to Jun who takes it and immediately brightens, joy evident in his features. Soonyoung wonders what sort of life he’s lived if the novelty of tightening a backstay hasn’t worn off yet. 

Jun sets to mimicking the steps he saw Soonyoung do. He’s almost got it in the proper position when the sail tilts again. “You’ve got to pull it tighter.” Soonyoung says and Jun gives his head a slight shake as if to say _explain_. Soonyoung doesn’t feel like playing charades before evening, so he goes behind Jun and wraps himself around him, arms parallel to Jun’s, hands overlapping. “Here, like this,” He says, and takes a step back, urging Jun to follow him. He laces his fingers through Jun’s to grab the rope with him and pull until the sail comes to full mast. He leads Jun through the motions of looping the initial knot into the cleat and the next three come easily. As the final loop is tightened, Soonyoung notices how small his hands look in comparison to Jun’s. It makes heat crawl up into his face and he feels the overwhelming need to flee immediately. But there’s nowhere to run on a boat in the ocean. He’s stuck here with his decisions, this one being him wrapped around Jun like an octopus. 

He backpaddles quickly, laughing as he detaches himself from Jun, giving him a sharp clap on the shoulder. “Great job! First try too. You’re a natural!” Soonyoung’s voice has gone squeaky. He wonders if he can contort himself enough to hide in the starboard side compartments alongside his spices and oils. 

Jun faces him and _beams,_ grin so wide two dimples are visible on either cheek and, well, Soonyoung is done for. In direct sunshine, Jun looks brilliant and dazzling, the tan of his skin glowing in the warm light. His hair shines, dark and sleek, almost seemingly untouched by the salty air that makes Soonyoung’s hair frizz out in tangled waves. He’s beautiful as he smiles, so proud of himself, his hands clasped together at his chest as he does little hops, as if his joy is too momentous to contain in his body. Soonyoung has to avert his gaze if he wants to survive, a pathetic thumbs-up his way of validating his decision to turn away and move the tiller into place, securing it down with its respective rope. 

Jun isn’t good for his health. He might die if he spends more time looking directly at him. 

This reaffirms itself later that night when Soonyoung lets Jun cook the congee at the insistence of Jun shooing him away from the spices, a coy grin in place as he ravages Soonyoung’s storage compartments. Even at a distance, it smells too spicy to be anything short of poison, but Soonyoung is incapable of denying Jun anything, so he dutifully eats the meal. Jun practically vibrates with excitement and Soonyoung gives him a shaky smile even though every bite makes him feel like he’s licking lava. His eyes are burning, blurring out Jun sitting opposite him. Soonyoung didn’t know he even _had_ these kinds of spices, but he finishes his bowl anyway just to see Jun be happy. Soonyoung offers to clean up, using it as an excuse to shove a piece of bread in his mouth to combat the spice behind the cover of the middle sail as he haphazardly washes their dishes. 

Jun is laid out on the deck at the bow, up on the higher point. Soonyoung’s ship dips in the center of the hull, making it a crescent moon on the water. Soonyoung likes how the bow of the ship has pseudo-levels to it, giving it the illusion of separate spaces, a balance to the stern side helm and cuddy levels. Jun had taken a liking to the bow levels, preferring to sit there when he wasn’t meandering about, watching Soonyoung do his chores. 

The sun has long gone and the moon is high in the sky, unobstructed by clouds and bright enough that Soonyoung only lights one of his ship lanterns. He usually leaves Jun alone when he sits at the bow, but tonight, Soonyoung feels compelled to join him. When he is done with his tasks, he walks over quietly, setting the lantern down on the mid table and laying down beside Jun. It’s quiet, save for their breathing and the steady lapping of waves against the hull. There’s a silence associated with the ocean that Soonyoung loves; it’s so all-encompassing that it feels like a blanket. He revels in that as he tucks his left arm under his head, Jun off to his right. It’s peaceful until a wind cuts through the ship and Jun tenses so violently Soonyoung feels it. 

He props himself up on his elbow to look at Jun, who seems concerned, a little worried, but not cold. Jun’s eyes find him and there’s something there that Soonyoung can’t understand. He reaches his other hand out to smooth a hand over Jun’s arm, something he’s done since Jun slept in the cuddy the first night. An act of comfort, as if to say: _I don’t understand, but I’ve got you_. Jun slowly exhales, eyes closing as he relaxes back into the deck. He breathes deeply for several minutes and Soonyoung waits, watching, anchoring him. Soonyoung thinks, maybe, the wind reminded Jun of what happened before coming aboard his ship. Soonyoung rubs a circle into the muscle of Jun’s bicep with his thumb until Jun’s eyes reopen and he focuses on Soonyoung. 

“Hey,” Soonyoung whispers. Jun covers Soonyoung’s hand with his own, stilling his ministrations--his way of saying: _thank you_. It’s warm and comforting to be someone else's comfort, Soonyoung thinks. Soonyoung lays back down, this time on his side, hand still on Jun’s arm as he watches Jun watch the night sky.

As it shines over the ocean, the moonlight is vivid upon Jun’s face. As much as the sun made Jun appear stunning, the moon is where he comes into his own. His features look like they are sculpted with the moonlight in mind, carved into the cosmos, luminescent and otherworldly. Soonyoung thinks he can find his way home in a storm if Jun is his light. 

“You’re beautiful.” He says it easily, a whisper barely leaving the confines of his lips. The truth is easy to let free around Jun like this. Jun offers no words, just squeezes Soonyoung’s hand as though he understands Soonyoung, eyes never moving from the night sky, an intensity to his gaze that makes the moon appear like his lifeline, tethering him to something Soonyoung can never grasp. Soonyoung is content to absorb his beauty and company in silence.

Soonyoung is aware of his growing attachment to Jun. Jun could soak up the moonlight, transform into an unreachable celestial body that Soonyoung would be helpless to walk away from, constantly pulled into his gravity like the tides.

They stay out on the bow for a while later, until Soonyoung registers that it's well into the witching hour, and his eyes are heavy with sleep. He sits up, pats Jun to get his attention, and gestures to the cuddy. “I’m going to bed,” He says, quietly, unwilling to disturb the tranquility Jun has found here. “Goodnight.” 

Jun holds his hand, sitting up with him as Soonyoung stands. His brain is clouded with sleep, too muddled to make sense of the way Jun is staring at him. He looks like he’s thinking something over too much. Soonyoung, a little delirious, giggles and presses his finger into the crease between Jun’s eyebrows, smoothing out the skin as if that could erase the pensiveness on him. Jun catches his other hand and seems at war with that, but Soonyoung gives a reassuring squeeze to them and that makes up Jun’s mind. He tugs at Soonyoung’s hands until he has to kneel back down on the deck beside Jun. He lets himself be drawn into a hug, arms awkwardly slung over Jun’s shoulders as he wraps his arms around Soonyoung’s ribs and presses his nose into Soonyoung’s shoulder. 

Soonyoung’s breath catches in his throat. He feels a sudden zip of warmth, white hot down to his toes, making him tingle. It has been so long since he was hugged intentionally by someone who isn’t Minghao. He leans into it, curling his arms around Jun’s shoulders and knocking his cheek into the top of Jun’s head. Soonyoung waits for Jun to let him go. Eventually Jun does, and when he leans back, he gives Soonyoung an uncharacteristically shy look, ducking his head to stare at his lap. Soonyoung lets his hand linger for a moment longer on Jun’s shoulder. 

Soonyoung leaves him like that on the bow to stargaze, body buzzing with static and mind exhausted as he sets up his sleeping mat on top of the cuddy. His eyes are too heavy to stay open the minute his head hits the pillow, but it doesn’t stop him from replaying the day over and over in his mind until the edges fuzz out and he loses sense of it. The thin blanket does nothing to replace the warmth Jun gave him. He tries not to dwell on that. 

~ ☾ ~

Soonyoung gets attached easily. It’s something he’s always known about himself growing up and navigating the world as an adult, fresh on the seas and so trusting. He’s seasoned now, knows a bit better than to trust blindly, the naivety in his heart eclipsed by experience, and he carries it with him everywhere like a brand in his skin, hot iron to flesh. He’s more careful than ever, so when he finds himself attached to Jun in a blindly devoted way, he loses hours in the night to asking himself _why_. 

After a lot of deliberation, Soonyoung attributes it to the fact that he’s been alone on his ship for a long time. It’s too intense for what it is, for how they exist near one another, and Soonyoung wants to scream into a pillow. He likes people but craves alone time like a starved man craves food and it’s why he decided to sail, separated from the necessity to exist in the eyes of others. Few can make him feel as though he’s not constantly emotionally giving, body dialed up to one hundred before his brain can catch up, and as much as he loves it he needs to be alone. Jun, however, doesn’t sap him, doesn’t drain him, doesn’t make him feel the need to perform and simply goes about his own business in the vicinity of Soonyoung. Soonyoung feels like they’re both cats, quietly slinking around one another to sense patterns and energy, and it’s making him want to latch onto Jun. 

Jun matches him in a way he hasn’t felt when sailing in years. It makes Soonyoung feel wild, wanting to sink his teeth into him. It’s unnerving to get attached like this again and Soonyoung doesn’t want his personal desires to cloud his judgement when it comes to making sure this stranger, no, _companion_ , Junhui, can get home safe. 

~ ☾ ~

On the third night, after a small wind and lightning storm, Soonyoung is hiding out in the cuddy with a shirtless Jun wondering how the fuck he ended up here. 

“Your wounds can’t possibly be healed already.” Even as Soonyoung says it, he can see it doesn’t matter what he thinks because Jun’s torso is unmarred, all the deepest wounds stitched are gone, fishing line discarded on the floor and not even an irritated mark in its wake. Soonyoung is stunned. He runs his hand over the places where the cuts used to be over and over again because it just _doesn’t make sense_. 

The minute they were out of the brunt of the storm, Soonyoung ushered them into the cuddy for protection, Jun terrified and unmoving in the face of lightning. As a distraction, Soonyoung had urged Jun to redress the wounds and upon removal of the bandages, he discovered that they were gone. 

“This doesn’t make sense,” He says again, as if that can change the outcome somehow. 

Jun doesn’t seem bothered with the situation, only looking at Soonyoung as if he was the one with freakishly fast healing skin. “ _If you wanted an excuse to touch me, all you had to do was ask_ ,” Jun says. He sounds smug. Soonyoung wants to shake him until answers fall out of his pockets like loose change. 

“How?” Soonyoung repeats. He remembers, so clearly, the deep gash leading to his arm that Soonyoung himself stitched. He runs his fingers along the line where it would have been, lantern light casting shadows in their wake. Jun shivers slightly but lets Soonyoung explore silently. He stays still until Soonyoung dips down to Jun’s hipbone and only then does Jun react, grabbing his hand tightly in that grip that Soonyoung feels like could break him in half. He squirms uncomfortably in Jun’s grasp, pinned by his fierce gaze.

“What the fuck?” Soonyoung asks, less heat to it this time, but overwhelmingly confused and unnerved. He’s exhausted from being so lost and Jun seems to see it, soften at this, grip loosening and letting Soonyoung’s hand come to rest on him. There’s no explanation that can be sought, he knows, so Soonyoung sighs, deflating. Jun is a bit taller than him standing upright, and so when Soonyoung tips forward, he’s just tall enough to knock his forehead into Jun’s collarbone. He doesn’t understand any of this, his mind is moving too quickly to catch up with, and Jun, though the cause, makes it better--quieter. 

Jun wraps his arms around Soonyoung’s shoulders, pulling him fully into his embrace until Soonyoung sags against him, releasing all his tension and questions into the golden lantern light and the softness of Jun’s skin. Soonyoung knows this isn’t something he should disregard, but he’s just so _tired_ and would give up anything in favour of spending a moment with Jun like this, his endlessly quick thoughts slowing to a halt. Jun is warm and comforting against him, swaying so gently from side to side that Soonyoung thinks it’s the ship at first. 

“ _Stay with me,”_ Jun murmurs into the crown of Soonyoung’s head. “ _Here. Tonight_.” 

Soonyoung hums his acknowledgement despite not knowing what was said. He holds on until he feels Jun start to peel away from him. Moment over. Questions unanswered. He relents, letting Jun move out of the circle of his arms, and mentally calls it for the night. He offers Jun a tight smile and nod, turning and walking to the cuddy opening. 

Soonyoung is stopped by Jun’s hand on his shoulder, trailed down his arm to grab his hand and lead him back into the sleeping space. Soonyoung thinks his heart might crawl out of his chest and splat onto the deck in some grand escape with how hard it’s beating. He lets Jun lead him into the makeshift sleeping mat, pulling the cover back and crawling in first, giving Soonyoung a chance to leave if he wanted to. 

He doesn’t. 

He blows out the lantern light and joins Jun under the covers, heart hammering so loudly that he thinks Jun can hear it. He’s not sure how he’s ended up here as he stares at the ceiling of the cuddy with Jun crammed between his side and the wall where the mat meets the wood. The too-tight space is only as accommodating as Jun’s limbs allow for and Soonyoung tries to keep his growing affections at bay, platonic or otherwise. 

Because he’s panicking. Hard. 

He’s worried he’s going to latch onto Jun in his sleep, cling to him, and even worse he’s worried he’s going to drool _on_ Jun. There are too many variables to this and Soonyoung is not fond of uncharted waters. Jun seems like he is nothing but the unknown. Soonyoung doesn’t know how Jun came to be wounded in his nets, how he heals so quickly, but he knows Jun likes to sleep until noon; he knows Jun likes his food spicy, enjoys tangerines in the morning, likes his tea room temperature, and likes to stargaze. Soonyoung also knows Jun is afraid of storms, craves attention at all times but seems to shrink under directness in the day. He’s honest at night, a bit too open and real under the moonlight. Soonyoung knows Jun likes to sing little nonsensical tunes to himself, dance quietly when he thinks no one is looking, and to touch Soonyoung by hugs, holding his hand, hooking his chin on his shoulder. Soonyoung knows enough about Jun to make sharing a bed with him easy. 

But it isn’t. Jun is unknown here because Soonyoung is afraid of how he knows how Jun makes him feel. He feels less alone, feels comfortable, understood, cared for, and appreciated. Soonyoung likes Jun a bit more than he should. 

The darkness of the cuddy feels overwhelming as he listens to Jun’s breath even out into sleep. Soonyoung could theoretically leave, but he won’t, because even the tiniest bit of him is curious as to what Jun looks like the moment he wakes up, fully rested, and happy. The thought of Jun beside him as a part of his routine flusters him. Soonyoung pulls the blanket up to his chin and burrows in, letting his fears run their course until all he has is the warmth of Jun beside him and the promise of a night of rest on the horizon. 

And when Soonyoung wakes up in the middle of the night with Jun curled up against his side, head pillowed on Soonyoung’s chest, he doesn’t move him. Jun’s weight is a reminder that he’s alive, he’s okay, and he’s not alone. 

~ ☾ ~

By day four, Soonyoung has noticed several things about his new companion that he’s added to a never-ending catalogue of idiosyncrasies. Jun swings between extremes of motion: he either exists only as dead weight in the bow of the ship or he is restlessly pacing, unable to sit still. Soonyoung has perfected his routine of sailing, notices changes in patterns, and adjusts accordingly. Jun throws Soonyoung off balance, sometimes in a good and challenging way, sometimes in a bad way. To keep his sanity and to keep his course, Soonyoung will disregard his surroundings. 

It is in that disregard that the disaster builds slowly. 

Like all things in Soonyoung’s life, things only become apparent to him once they have passed him by, like ships sailing in opposite directions; he only has hindsight to wave, never foresight. Unlike all things in Soonyoung’s life, Jun doesn’t go anywhere, doesn’t leave Soonyoung any room to have past or future knowledge. Soonyoung is forced to think on the fly for himself and for Jun, a concept he has limited experience in doing, which unfortunately leads them into situations like this.

“Hold the line!” Soonyoung shouts at Jun around a mouthful of water. The storm is raging and pulling up the anchor swiftly moves from a standard task to the most challenging one yet. Soonyoung knows it’s too late, they’ve been blown so far off course it will take at least an extra day and a half with good wind to get them back on par. Jun is braced at the stern of the boat, gathering supplies to shove somewhere out of the way of the storm when Soonyoung shouts for help. The rope has almost gotten away from him and Soonyoung begins to lose his balance on the slippery deck itself. 

He’s had days like this before. It’s not uncommon when fishing is a profession. Soonyoung is grateful to have an extra set of hands on board to ensure he doesn’t fall in but in the same breath it becomes another set of hands to worry about. And Soonyoung worries about Jun a lot. Jun, who blanched at the first crack of thunder, who looks ghastly now, as though he’s frozen in place, rain pelting him and he still doesn’t move. Jun, who seemingly fears nothing, fears this. Soonyoung feels that fear in kind. 

Soonyoung wants to comfort Jun, wants to make sure he’s safe, but right now he wants more than anything for Jun to snap out of it and help him make sure he doesn’t puncture the hull when he drags the anchor out of the ocean. Soonyoung’s grip on the rope is starting to slip, hands slick with water and sweat, and it hurts. He has his thighs braced against the forward pulpit as he holds onto the rope with all his strength, and he spares a glance back to Jun, who looks more lost than before. 

Soonyoung had a stint on a bigger junk ship some five years prior and found himself as acting captain for a whole month before he traded his passions again. In that time, he learned a few things about being commanding, how to be, and when it was most important. He was praised for his ability to switch roles to whatever others needed him to be. Here, in the wake of Jun’s wide and panicked eyes, he is needed as a captain. He knows Jun doesn’t understand his words, but he hopes and hopes he understands _him_. 

Garbled around another wave crashing into the bow and soaking Soonyoung, he yells in a commanding voice: “Grab the rope!” 

Soonyoung doesn’t look to see if Jun is coming, he trusts his companion, and swings his focus back to not letting the tide take the one thing that could tether Soonyoung to his home. It’s difficult to gauge where he is in relation to the ship itself, as he has long since gone numb, icy storm water and adrenaline making sensations vanish as soon as they come. He’s aware of a dull throb along his back from where he has been tensed, braced against the winds and rain. 

The storm had come out of nowhere, with the same suddenness as Jun had (come to think of it almost everything in the past week had occurred in the same fashion as Jun). One minute it was sunny, Soonyoung happily listening to Jun chitter about something with bright eyes while he peeled oranges for them, the next there were storm clouds flanking them, the wind fast and the thunder loud and sudden. Soonyoung sprang into action immediately, knowing they were too far from shore to make it in time, so he set about bracing for impact. He barely got the hatch open before the boat tipped sideways, water sloshing over the sides of the freeboard and threatening to turtle. The wind was relentless and as Soonyoung clung to the hatch opening for balance, he reached in and pulled out the anchor, attached only to a rope. He seldom used the anchor, never needed to, had it more for precautions than anything, but as rain battered his ship, eyes unable to blink away the blur of water and ship leaning dangerously, hull starting to emerge from the sea, he was grateful. Soonyoung slid toward the bow using the weight of the anchor to push him forward and grabbed onto the side of the boat. He had installed a forward cleat a year ago for no other reason than to have a place to latch an additional net to--today it served as the mooring point. Soonyoung tied the rope down as fast as he could and with all his arm strength he lugged it over the side of the ship that was heeling. It was a feeble attempt at counterweight, but it was all he could do. 

The rope had broken a few moments later and Soonyoung lunged for it. Now, his feet are slipping as the ship tilts the opposite direction, wind changing quickly. He can’t rely on the bow board forever and he’s about to say _fuck it_ , hull be damned, until he feels hands twist into his shirt. Jun tugs harshly and this time Soonyoung really does lose his footing, toppling backwards into the other man, both falling to the deck. The anchor follows shortly after and Soonyoung shrieks loudly, flailing to try and get out of the way. Jun seems to catch on once again and lets out a string of expletives, but the anchor lands short of their feet, wood splintering as it punches a small but not catastrophic hole in the deck. 

“Oh fuck,” Soonyoung says, collapsing fully against Jun. The storm rages on, uncaring of their momentary reprieve. Jun flops against the deck and Soonyoung rolls off him, body aching. “Oh gods what the fuck is happening?” He speaks it into the floorboards. He feels water slosh around his legs as the ship teeters. Soonyoung thanks all two of his lucky stars that he is not prone to seasickness or else his breakfast would have been somewhere to his right. 

He crawls toward the helm. It’s his last attempt to get the ship straightened out. Soonyoung pulls the tiller inwards, banking to port hard. Jun yelps but is mostly concealed by the rain. “Hold on!” Soonyoung yells. 

“ _What are you doing?_ ” Jun yells back. He sounds a little alarmed but even more incredulous, like this is something he couldn’t imagine happening to them, that he couldn’t imagine Soonyoung getting them out of. Soonyoung needs to prove him wrong. 

With a smile, he urges the ship to cut the waves with the bow, working with the wind as best as he can. Soonyoung holds true to the left, full body weight against the tiller to ensure the ship path. No storm is without its end, and Soonyoung intends to find it in record time. 

Soonyoung scans the ship for Jun, and feels a zip of fear down his spine when he can’t see him anywhere. He doesn’t have time to linger on that for long before the wind shifts gears and starts pushing the ship back. “No. No, no, no, _no_ , come on!” Soonyoung's frustration bleeds into his voice. His ship can’t take much more of this and neither can he. His body is so cold, so into overdrive that he has to watch what his limbs are up to because he can no longer feel them. Out of body experience made easy, he figures. 

Eventually the storm crests, one loud crack of thunder and a panel of lightning and it’s over. As soon as it came, it’s gone. Soonyoung blinks the water out of his eyes, pushing his soaked hair back until he feels the cool drip of the rainwater on the back of his neck. Soonyoung feels as though he could abstain from a shower for a day, thoroughly waterlogged and very sadly out of replacement underwear. 

The sun is immediately bright and Soonyoung has to rub his eyes a few times to reacclimate. It’s hot. His whole ship is covered in a layer of water and his middle sail has a hole in it. What the fuck? Soon, Soonyoung spots Jun laying on the deck in what appears to be a spot on imitation of a dead fish. He looks washed up and a bit dejected if he’s honest. Soonyoung is elated to see him alive. 

This was only the beginning of it. 

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed part one of my open love letter for how much i love soonhui
> 
> [writing twitter](https://www.twitter.com/citruswonwoo) | [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/citruswonwoo)


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